


On the Mating Habits of a Massive Spiderbot

by StarlightCaptivator



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Animal Instincts, Cannibalism, Filial Cannibalism, Implied Necrophilic Tendancies, Now Certified Grade-A Cursed, One-Hundred Percent Undadulterated SpiteFic, Other, Oviposition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-23 22:10:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9681449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightCaptivator/pseuds/StarlightCaptivator
Summary: Tarantulas, and how he makes plans that come to fruition.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EatYourSparkOut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EatYourSparkOut/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Along Came A Spider](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9477695) by [EatYourSparkOut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EatYourSparkOut/pseuds/EatYourSparkOut). 



> Friends, we have established that I am an individual made up mainly of spite. But what most _don't_ know is that spite is saltier than the ocean per cubic centimeter. This work is a reflection of that- and while _mainly _dedicated to Book and their awesome writing, it's also dedicated to people who gotta vague about hard work and make people feel bad. You facilitated this. :)__
> 
>  
> 
> __  
> _Enjoy and read at your own risk!_  
> 

For once in his long and often violence-filled life, Tarantulas felt regret.

It wasn't a regret of immediate circumstance, as if he'd been struck or caught off guard and regretted not moving, nor was it the sort of regret one feels when caught with proverbial manipulators in the goodie box.

 Tarantulas stroked the round curve of his abdomen, pressed a little to feel the eggs growing within despite the momentary discomfort this caused, and felt a regret of pure impulse.

Not for his eggs, no! His own want for them and the strong coding telling him to protect had him feeling no regret in that arena.

Tarantulas reached into his subspace and pulled free a carefully wrapped bundle.

"Ooh, sweet, " he cooed, unwrapping it. "Our new creations are growing so well, you'd be proud of them."

Prowl's head, unsurprisingly, had nothing to say to that.

"I wish I'd have kept your spike," Tarantulas continued, conversationally. "I'm feeling the lack of it now for certain in this stage of carrying- but I couldn't help but _nibble_.. " Prowl had nothing to say to that, either. It didn't deter Tarantulas from going on.

"I saved the rest of you, though. I would hate it if our little ones didn't have a chance to know their sire after all."

Tarantulas cackled, and laid a loving kiss to Prowl's unmoving lips before turning the head to 'look' at where he had stored the rest of his frame in his webs below.

* * *

 For Tarantulas, the urge came like an _itch_ before he could even really help himself. The urges were insidious and all consuming, and had him building and residing in a pod built around the _most important_  storage in his web in preparation for his time.

Reclined inside his pod, he reached out to caress the covered curve of Prowl's bumper. His array pulsed gently at him at the contact and slowly he moved onto his knees to prop himself over the precious scrap-cargo that was at one point, named Prowl.

Tarantulas disengaged his modesty paneling and immediately pressurized his spike into his waiting claws. Chirring softly, he began to stroke himself, unable to ignore the wave of pleasure that washed over him.

His valve was so hot and achingly empty as to feel _hungry_  and again he wished for Prowl's spike so that he could drive himself down upon it. At the same time, he balked _intensely_  at the idea of anything penetrating him to slake his thirst and a deep cramping feeling told him why.

 And by _Primus_ was it an exquisite pain! He buried his face in the soft webbing, taking in the faintest whiffs of that comforting scent through it. It energized him through the rest of his contraction, had him spreading his legs and pumping his spike harder, _faster_ through the end of it.

 He wanted _more_ , as if the sensations of discomfort and pain could be wound together in the pleasure and the pleasure of the moment- as if that could be placed in front of him to be stuffed down his greedy gullet.

 Then, the first egg began to drop, and Tarantulas' world turned to ecstasy. His careful hold on his spike did nothing to hold off his climax, each sensor activated and pressed felt like another added second to his overload.

 He was barely aware of the transfluid nigh- _erupting_ from him to soil the webbing in front of him as he came, and was certainly _unaware_  for a hot moment as he slumped down out of it.

 Awareness brought a surprisingly unpleasant burning to the rim of his valve and with it, a few  moments of panic.

 He came out of it with a swiftness to be proud of and laboriously got himself upright so to gather himself- and so that he could bear down on the near-perfectly round egg stretching him open, as well.

 Tarantulas pushed, and the pain didn't ease over the midsection of the egg- briefly it was made worse and _better_  by the decent of a second behind it until _finally-_ the two gushed free of his body, and he took a moment to slump and cycle through a few well needed vents.

 Recovered, he scooped up both eggs to inspect them, and was delighted to see they both shone with the soft light of a newspark- the first a little larger and _greener_ than it's sibling.

 "I suppose there _is_  something to be said about pain and gain, hmm sparklets?" Tarantulas chortled at his own joke before finding himself having to get ready to bear down again on the next egg ready to emerge.

 By the time the last was out, exhaustion clung to every fiber of his being. He'd overloaded more than he could count, had delivered a sizable pile of viable eggs and just a few duds, but still had a last daunting task ahead of him.

He considered his options, as he went into beastmode almost automatically. It would be _most_  reasonable to unwrap a little bit of Prowl for a nibble, regain some strength and some energy for the collapse he could _feel_ coming towards him. He _needed_  to spin an egg sac and _soon_ , or something catastrophic could happen to his progeny. But Primus forbid he was left so weak, for potentially _so long._

 All of his optics floated to the small pile of dud eggs as he surveyed the pod. 

 Very suddenly, his solution became obvious. 

 Delight flooded his circuits once more, as he made quick work of the detritus.

 When he was done eating and done spinning, Tarantulas cuddled his new egg sac close to his underside and settled in nestled next to Prowl's remains. Quite happily, he let the haze of unconsciousness roll over him. 

* * *

 While he slept, he dreamed. 

He dreamed of Prowl's face when he found him again, dreamed of the advantage they had to have decided they were taking of each other.

Prowl took advantage of their history, while Tarantulas- at the end of their short series of liaisons-  took advantage of the fact that Prowl tended to get cocky when he was sure he had all the angles covered.  
_That_  was why Prowl ended up dead and Tarantulas holed up where no soul would be able to find him. Primus help anyone to stumble upon him in this state!

Primus _didn't_  help Prowl, when he came looking to collar Tarantulas and found him thorax deep in his own research of the changes those eggs he had _so carefully_ planned for were making to his frame.

Tarantulas found it _laughable_  that Prowl seemed to think that if he took his spike another time that he'd go with him and forfeit his freedom and body and that of his progeny to whatever scientists Prowl would have given him to.

No, _this_  future was far preferable, and he'd not be on his lonesome for long

* * *

 

When Tarantulas woke again, it was to a jerking wiggle from underneath. He was awake instantly, despite the lethargy still plaguing his frame to move aside and open his precious food storage.

A nibble or two for old time's sake and he'd say goodbye to his lovely Prowl- found and lost and _found_  again and now soon he'd be able to show their hatchlings the joys of life, express from their sire in their first moments. 


End file.
